Efferati
by Ficalicious
Summary: The story takes place three years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione has left England and the Wizarding World to try and piece back the broken shards of her life. She is lost and adrift and it takes an unlikely soul to help her find her way once more.
1. Chapter 1

**Efferati**

 **Efferati (Latin – Ferocious) is my first Draco/Hermione fanfiction. In fact, it's only my second Harry Potter fanfiction ever. I only got into Harry Potter about three months ago and have been enjoying the world so here is my little dabble. I own nothing. I make no money from it. I just enjoy writing.**

 **I entitled this piece Efferati as I believe both Draco and Hermione are ferocious people. Not necessarily in a negative way, but in the way they approach life. They do it full heartedly, without limit and with passion. I have set this story in a small town on the East Coast of Ireland called Cahore. I have never been to Cahore and what I know is from Google Earth so please forgive anything that is incorrect.**

 **The story takes place three years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione has left England and the Wizarding World to try and piece back the broken shards of her life. She is lost and adrift and it takes an unlikely soul to help her find her way once more.**

 **Rated M for later chapters (although I think Americans call it NC17 -I'm Australian so no idea). This IS Draco/Hermione so if you're not into that don't read! I love to get reviews (who doesn't?) so please tell me what you think! More chapters to come!**

It was a grey day. There was no other way to describe it but as grey. Thick grey clouds blanketed the sky, growing increasingly darker as they reached the horizon. They threatened rain. The waves were grey as they broke against the rocky shore. The sand looked grey. The sparse leaves and the patchy trunks of the beach scrub was grey. Even the light seemed grey.

A young woman stood on the breaker wall, gazing out at the swelling waters. The wind whipped up her riot of curls and they blustered around her face. Her eyes were unblinking, fixated on the horizon. It was clear that she was somewhere else, in spirit if not in body. An onlooker would describe her as melancholy. Sad even.

Hermione Granger was melancholy. Her heart longed for something that she would never have again. Something that, if she were honest with herself, had been taken from her at a very young age. For Hermione Granger wasn't your average 20-year-old woman. In fact, she was so far from average that anyone who was not of her world, and some who were, would be shocked to know the things she had seen and experienced.

You see, Hermione Granger was a witch. The brightest witch of her age. A witch who had actively helped to defeat the worst dark wizard her world had ever known. A witch whose best friend had been the Chosen One. A witch who, at the age of 11, had faced evil in the face and defeated it. All of this sounds wonderfully adventurous and exciting but it had left Hermione Granger feeling empty and at a loss as to what to do with her life. The brightest witch of her age with all the wizarding world at her fingertips and she had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

After the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, had spent the summer teetering between childhood and adulthood. They were still only 17. They hadn't finished school. They were teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them. And yet, they had seen far more than many adults had seen in their entire lives. They had enjoyed a summer free of responsibility, free of danger, free of anything more than sleeping late, eating copious amounts of Molly Weasley's cooking and mucking about. But the summer was tinged with sadness. The loss of Fred, of many others, had left a darkness that could not be lifted or ignored entirely. George Weasley spent untold hours in solitude. Harry, suddenly realising he was no longer destined to die at the hands of the Dark Lord had boomeranged between youthful recklessness and bouts of depression so severe that he left his friends seriously concerned for him. Only Ginny could calm him when he got like that.

Hermione and Ron had explored their blossoming romance. So many years in the making it had been almost awkward to begin with. Neither of them had known what to do, what to say, how to act. Eventually they found their rhythm and that summer allowed them to at long last be together. It had been bittersweet. If Hermione had known that it wouldn't last she might not have given herself to Ron that summer. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.

The summer ended all too quickly for all of them. Molly Weasley had struggled immensely with letting them return to Hogwarts, even though she knew the danger had passed. And for all of them it was difficult to return to the place that had once been home. Everywhere they looked there were memories of loved ones now dead. They were celebrities; more than they had ever been. Not a single student didn't know what had happened, even the first years. Hermione and Ron finally had a full understanding of what Harry had gone through all those years. The stares. The whispers. It was exasperating to say the least.

It had been wonderful to see some of their old teachers. McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid. But even Hermione could not deny how hard it was to settle into the role of a student once more. Their year searching for Horcruxes; not having to answer to anyone, no rules, no curfew – these things were hard to obey once back inside the walls of Hogwarts. Of course, none of them had obeyed those rules in their first 6 years of school so it was little wonder that many a blind eye was turned their way. Harder still had been the distance that had grown between Ron and Hermione. Whether it was the memory of his brother's death, or the pressure he now felt to grow up, study and find a future in the wizarding world Ron began to pull away and sink inside himself. He pulled away from both Hermione and Harry. Even Ginny. When finally, he had admitted to Hermione that he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He needed to find himself and be there for his family. Hermione had been heartbroken but understood. And in a way she was relieved.

And so it had been that they had graduated. They had been thrown out into the adult world with knowledge, experience and more ability than many others their age. Harry had immediately started Auror training which had always sat wrong with Hermione. After years of dealing with evil she would have thought he'd want something a bit less stressful. Ron had spent a time working with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes before joining Harry in Auror training. Ginny had pursued a Quidditch career. Neville had gone on to become a Professor at Hogwarts.

And then there was Hermione. The brightest witch of her age. A girl with so much potential. A witch with the world at her fingertips. And she had no idea what to do. Seeing her friends happy sparked a small flame inside her. She was glad for them. Glad that they were picking up the pieces and moving on. But she simply couldn't. She didn't have any inkling as to a career she would enjoy. She didn't know if she could stand the tedium of a job that she had to go to every day. Not after all of her adventures. She also wanted to find her parents.

The thought of her parents had been with her for a long time. Her final year at Hogwarts had been haunted by it. It had been her first step after graduating. Apparating to Melbourne, Australia where her parents had moved and starting the lengthy process of restoring their memories. It had been painfully upsetting, seeing her parents and them having no recollection of her. Hermione had had to force herself to go through with it. The temptation to let them be was overwhelming. The Obliviate spell had been powerful. Far too powerful to remove on her own. She had taken her parents back to England, with much persuasion, and had them admitted to St Mungo's. Two years later they were still there, slowly mending.

How she had now found herself in Ireland was another story entirely. The pain of being near her parents was too much to bear. The pain of seeing her friends happily moving on without her was too much to bear. The pain of people's confusion at her impasse in life was too much to bear. So she had sought out somewhere that would bring peace to her troubled mind. Somewhere that only happy memories existed.

So it was that she had found her way to Ireland. She had visited Seamus and met his infamous mother. It had been nice, in a bittersweet sort of way, to see someone she had gone to school with. But her reputation had preceded her and Seamus' mother's innocent questions as to what she was doing with her life soon started to become too much. She'd left them only a few short days after arriving and continued on her way.

Although apparating would have been a far easier means of transport Hermione felt the need to abstain from magic as much as possible. She needed to clear her head and distance herself from that world for a time. She would settle herself to catching busses and trains to get there.

And that was how she found herself in the small town of Cahore. She had come there with her parents as a young child and had fond memories of staying in the holiday park. She could recall walks on the wintery beach; dipping her toes into the Irish Sea. Her father had been more carefree than she'd ever seen him. Her memories were warm and happy. That was why she had been drawn there. It was a place untouched by magic. Untouched by darkness. And she needed that.

Renting a cottage had been easy. She had money and because it was a holiday town and Hermione had arrived in winter the land lord had been desperate to find a tenant. It was a quaint cottage several miles from the town and quite near the beach. Filling her days became the hard part. Although her adventures with Harry and Ron had only been some 3 years prior Hermione was accustomed to being around people. Whether at Hogwarts, or the Burrow there were always people around and very little solitude. Even when you wanted it most. And despite the fact that she had come there specifically for solitude she still craved the companionship of friends. She really was a mess.

She found ways to fill her time. She read; although not at all like she used to. She weeded the small garden and got it ready for finer weather. She went for walks. She spent a lot of time staring out to sea, her mind in another time, another place.

The beach was quaint; as most things in Cahore were. She avoided the main tourist beach and spent considerable time walking along the small patch of sand not far from her doorstep. The waves often swallowed the small strip and she had to settle for standing on the breaker wall as they sprayed her with salty water.

That was where she found herself that day. Watching the tide and the storm roll in. It was hard for her to stop thinking about the fact that England, and home, was not that far over the Irish Sea. She was so close and so far. The icy wind was stinging her ears and she resigned herself to the oncoming storm. She'd have to leave shortly if she wanted to make it back to the cottage dry. Wrapping her coat tightly around her and brushing her curls from her eyes Hermione was about to turn to leave when something caught her eye.

Down on the rocks a black figure was walking. They were too far away for her to make them out clearly but she could tell they were tall and lanky simply by the way they moved. The figure appeared to be throwing rocks into the swelling waves. They didn't seem aware, or to care, that a storm was brewing or that storms came on quickly in these parts. The person was in a dangerous place and one strong wave would knock them clear off the rocks and into the angry seas.

Deciding she had better warn them of danger Hermione quickly walked along the shoreline. The waves were really kicking up and creating a thick mist in the air. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Stopping at the stone wall not 100m from the person Hermione squinted through the misty fog towards them. It appeared to be a young man, although it was hard to tell.

"Be careful!" She called out as a large wave broke on the rocks nearby. The young man, startled, spun around to face her. Although she couldn't make out his face she could tell she had surprised him.

"Sorry to startle you," she yelled over the worsening weather. "But there's a storm coming and you might get knocked in by the waves!" She pointed to the rocks and the growing waves, hoping he understood what she was trying to say. "Storms come in quickly." She finished lamely. There was an awkward silence where the man made no move out of harm's way. She wondered if he had heard her properly. Finally, the young man appeared to nod and turned to walk in the other direction. Hermione sighed knowing that she had done all she could. It was time for her to get home and out of the brewing storm.

It was with great relief that she made it back to her cottage just as the storm really hit. Her clothes were soaked and her hair a tangled mess but at least she hadn't been blown away. Weather like this always reminded her of Quidditch and she smiled at the memory of one particularly nasty Gryffindor/Slytherin match. Stripping out of her soaked clothing she climbed into the shower and turned the heat up high. She lathered her bushy hair with shampoo and conditioner and let the warm water heat her bones. She was finally starting to relax when she heard a banging at the front door. Startled, she shut off the water and listened. There it was again, more urgent this time.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her dripping hair before wrapping another around her body Hermione quickly moved through the cottage towards the front door. She grabbed her wand from the hall stand and held it subtly at her side. Although she had not used much magic since leaving England she was still a witch at heart. And after everything she had gone through she was on alert for danger much of the time.

Another pound on the door brought her to her senses and she swung it open just enough to see through. What, or rather who, she saw there made her mouth drop open in shock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Efferati Chapter 2**

 **Hermione receives a surprise visitor to her small cottage in Ireland. She isn't expecting this blast from the past at all! And where will it leave her?**

 **Not mine, just borrowing. If I made money from this, I'd be a wealthy person! Please read and review. Lack of reviews makes me think no one is interested and that it's not worth writing any more. Let me know what you think!**

 _Another pound on the door brought her to her senses and she swung it open just enough to see through. What, or rather who, she saw there made her mouth drop open in shock._

"It _is_ you!"

"Draco?" Hermione's mouth slammed shut. Standing on her porch was the absolute _last_ person she ever expected to see. Draco Malfoy. A sopping wet and shivering Draco Malfoy.

"I knew it was you!" He exclaimed. "As soon as you told me off for being on the rocks." There was almost a half-smile on his lips.

"Draco?" Hermione managed to say again, feeling her brain had turned to molasses. She couldn't quite get her mind around the fact that Draco Malfoy was standing on her porch.

"Sorry to interrupt your inner turmoil Granger but it's good manners to invite a person in." He gave her that infuriatingly smug smirk that brought back _way_ too many memories and nodded his head towards the door. "I see I've caught you at a bad time," his voice was confident and his eyes caught hers before looking pointedly at her towel. Hermione was still trying to get her brain to catch up with the fact that _Draco Malfoy was standing on her porch!_

"Granger?" His voice faltered slightly, his confidence disappearing. "You alright?"

"What are you doing here?" Hermione finally managed to connect her thoughts and her mouth. Draco sighed and stepped back from the door slightly. His eyes clouded and his expression darkened.

"I think you ought to invite me in." His voice held none of the pompous, commanding air it had when they were at school. In fact, it was reserved, almost uncertain. Hermione caught the slightest hint of insecurity in his eyes. Stepping back, she opened the door wider to allow him entrance. If she had been thinking clearly she may have rethought her actions but she felt momentarily stunned.

Draco entered the cottage, sweeping past Hermione and into the small sitting room. He turned to face her as she closed the door on the worsening weather. His eyes took in her dripping hair, her towel wrapped body. Hermione turned. She caught Draco's eyes taking her in before he quickly looked away.

"I'll be back in a moment," Hermione managed. She felt a blush rosing her body and cheeks. "Have a seat."

She quickly turned and all but fled to her bedroom. Draco Malfoy was sitting in her living room. _Draco Malfoy was sitting in_ her _living room!_ The thought was still seemingly too difficult to comprehend. Quickly discarding her towel, Hermione slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick woollen jumper. She found a pair of warm socks and pulled them on. Her mind was racing. What was Draco doing there? She hadn't seen or heard anything of him since the battle of Hogwarts. He'd ceased to exist the day they won back their school. She also couldn't help the thought that the last thing she needed was this reminder of the past. Whatever it was he wanted she was going to move him on as quickly as possible.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Hermione knotted her hair up into a messy bun and moved to face her former rival and enemy.

Draco had taken in his surroundings while he waited for Granger to re-emerge. The cottage was primitive, at least by his former standards, but it was clean and smelled of lilacs. It was homely and he somehow thought it suited Granger. There were books scattered about and he smirked to think she hadn't changed since school. But the woman, because that was what she was now, that had answered the door had _not_ been the same young girl he'd known at Hogwarts. She had definitely matured. In more than one way. But there was a sadness to her expression that irked him. What could mudblood Granger possibly have to be sad about? She had been on the winning side. She had every opportunity coming her way. She probably had some whiz bang job here.

He let out a huff of frustration, a scowl firmly forming on his features. Why had he come here?

He didn't get the chance to ponder that thought as he was interrupted by Hermione re-entering. She stopped in the doorway, her eyes finding his, her expression still one of shock and confusion. Draco quickly forced his face into a neutral expression. His eyes took in her attire out of mere curiosity. Hermione passed him a towel, having remembered that he was still dripping wet. Draco took it gratefully and made an attempt to pat himself dry.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione asked, covering her nervousness with hospitality. At least it would give her hands something to do. Not waiting for his reply she quickly moved to the kitchen and went through the motions of making tea.

Finally, they were both seated across from one another on the armchairs. They cradled their mugs, eyes darting about the room. Hermione's heart pounded. She had Draco Malfoy in her sitting room drinking tea. This day could not get any more bizarre.

Her eyes kept drawing back to the young man sitting across from her. She couldn't help but notice the changes in him since she had last seen him, three years prior. He had filled out. His shoulders had broadened, his chest had filled out and he seemed taller somehow, more imposing. His face was no longer gaunt and haggard as it had been in the final days of the war. Instead it was fuller, a pale stubble gracing his cheeks. He was also no longer the sallow, pale boy who hid behind a flop of hair. His face had colour, one might even say a light tan to it. And his hair was swept back, similar to how he had worn it in his first few years at Hogwarts. It indicated a confidence in himself, almost as though he were no longer hiding behind it. Hermione noted the black trousers and the thick grey woollen jumper he wore. Clearly colour hadn't made its way into his wardrobe.

She noticed him shiver. Mentally slapping herself for being such a bad hostess, she stood.

"Let me make up a fire," she offered, moving to the open hearth. She was just reaching for the matches when Draco pulled out his wand.

"I'll do it." He gave his wand a flick and muttered " _Incendio!"_ The logs on the hearth burst into flames and warmth emanated around the room. Hermione stepped back and, with nothing else to do, took her seat once more. She met Draco's gaze timidly. He didn't question her but she knew he was dying to inquire why she hadn't just used magic to start the fire. To be honest she didn't know why, except that she had spent so long distancing herself from that world that she had just gotten out of the habit.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She finally asked, ruder than she had intended. She didn't miss the almost hurt expression that flashed in Draco's eyes.

"I thought that would be obvious Granger," he sneered, reverting back to the Malfoy she remembered. "Didn't want to pass up on such world class hospitality and company." He gave her a dark look.

"I didn't ask you to be here, Malfoy," Hermione bit back, feeling her temper flare in an all too familiar way. "You invited yourself over, thank you very much. I believe I am perfectly within my rights to ask you what you are doing here." She gave him a haughty look to which Draco rolled his eyes.

"We haven't changed at all, have we Granger?" He said with a self-depreciating chuckle. Hermione was taken aback for a moment; her brain processing whether this was another attack on her. When Draco ran his hand through his hair and sat back in his chair she relaxed slightly.

"No, I suppose in some ways we haven't." She allowed.

"We always did bring out the best in each other," Draco smirked, raising his eyebrows to her and giving a half-hearted smile. Hermione felt thrown. She was not in any way prepared to be talking to Draco Malfoy and she certainly didn't know how to deal with a Draco Malfoy who was being… _friendly._

"I suppose that you were very wrapped up in hating me." She pointed out.

"I never hated you." His voice was soft. His eyes trained on the fire. Hermione's eyebrows shot into her hairline in surprise.

"You certainly acted like you did; always calling me mudblood, and trying to get me into trouble and being totally _insufferable!"_ She couldn't keep the anger from her voice.

"Sounds like _you_ hated _me_." Draco pointed out. He was watching her reactions, reading her. Hermione found it very unsettling. There was no malic in his voice, or expression. Simply resignation.

"I was under the impression we hated _each other._ You hated all of us. Harry. Ron."

"How are Weaslebee and Potter?" Draco asked with a smirk, changing the topic. Hermione looked away.

"I don't want to talk about them." She said curtly, causing Draco to laugh.

"Interesting. Well what would you like to talk about then?"

"How did you find me?" This question had been pressing on Hermione's mind since the moment Draco had turned up at the cottage. No one knew where she was, not really. They had vague ideas of the general area that she was in but not a single one of her friends knew where she was. _None of them had made an effort to find out_ , she thought bitterly.

"I hadn't set out to, if that's what you're wondering." Draco interrupted her thoughts. "Today on the rocks was the first I'd known about you being here."

"How long have you been here?" Seeing Draco was about to make a smart remark she clarified. "In Cahore?"

Draco chuckled, realising she'd got his number.

"About six months." He shrugged. Hermione couldn't help her shocked expression.

"Six months? How have I never seen you before today? This isn't exactly a town with a lot of people in it!"

"I'm aware. That is precisely why I came here." Draco shifted in his seat, running his fingers through his hair again. It appeared to have become a nervous habit.

"And why was that, again?" Hermione pushed. Draco's eyes found hers.

"It's not a secret, Granger. I'm not hiding anything. So stop acting like your annoying twelve-year-old self on a mission to uncover some hidden evil. I'm beyond all that."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut on a retort, realising that she had indeed slipped back into her old self and having had time and distance to reflect she could acknowledge that she had, perhaps, at times, been irritating and precocious. All for the greater good, of course.

"It's not as if it's a particularly thrilling story, you know." Draco continued. His brow had furrowed, his mood darkened. "No glory on my part, no heroics. I know you are all about the heroics." Hermione was about to butt in but Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't deny it Granger. I know better." He finished his statement with a small smile, letting her know he was teasing, although that threw her even more than the insult.

"I'm actually not really sure where to begin." He said. His hand went to his hair again before he crossed his arms and sunk back into the chair. His eyes were on the dancing flames.

"Maybe from the start?" Hermione suggested gently. She could see something burning in Draco's eyes. This was not the young man she had known.

"The start? Well you know the start, don't you Granger?" He sighed and continued. "I believe you last saw me after Voldemort's defeat. I make no attempt to justify my actions, as there is no justification other than that I did what I thought I had to do. I am now able to look back and see that my actions were not the best chosen but they are what they are and there is little that can be done to change that now.

"My father insisted we run. I want to point that out, seeing as you are so keen on the heroics. I had wanted to stay. In fact, as soon as I had realised Potter was alive I was coming over to your side. I thought there might be a chance that he could defeat Voldemort. My father, ever the coward it would seem, took the opportunity to flee. I appreciate that he thought he was protecting myself and mother, but I also know that he was saving his own neck. Not that it helped. He ended up being thrown back in Azkaban. As most of the Death Eaters were. Your little trio did a good job of making sure we were all punished for our sins." Draco gave her a dark smile. Hermione felt a chill run up her spine. She remembered the battle as if it were yesterday. She remembered seeing the Malfoy's fleeing the scene. She also remembered the aftermath and the Death Eaters being rounded up and tried.

"Were you in Azkaban?" She asked suddenly, horrified. The thought that he had been sent to such an awful place upset her, although she knew the things he had done.

"No. I was lucky to stay out of there. I was close. It was McGonagall of all people who vouched for me."

"McGonagall?" Hermione was shocked.

"She came to my trial and testified that she didn't believe that I would have joined Voldemort or done the things I'd done if it hadn't been for my father." He frowned deeply.

"W... would you have?" Hermione asked tentatively. Draco's eyes quickly found hers. He held her gaze for a moment.

"I would like to say no." He said without feeling. "I would like to believe that it was because my father hated muggles, and half-bloods and was so pompous that I merely knew no other way. And that may be true to an extent but by the time I attended Hogwarts I knew right from wrong. The only problem was a I had a skewed idea of it. I am only just now beginning to discover the kind of man I am. Or at least, becoming the kind of man I want to be. I had to unlearn what I had been taught my whole life.

"Mother and I returned home but it was never the same. The house was sullied. It held too many bad memories." He paused and gazed at her. "Do you know; I have never been able to forget your screams." His eyes are sad and he glances towards her covered arm. "What my aunt did to you… I think that was when I realised that I never really hated you. That all we had been doing up until that point was playing at adversaries. I'm sorry for what she did to you." He held her gaze. Hermione, feeling overwhelmed, nodded slightly. Draco, needing to tell his story, continued.

"We left for our summer home not long after. But even there we could not escape what had happened. We were known. Marked by my father. Marked by my actions. Everyone knew. Of course they did. The wizarding community are useless at keeping things to themselves. I'm surprised the muggles haven't caught onto us yet." Again he gave a humourless chuckle.

"Mother was sinking into depression. She missed father. She missed our old life; before everything happened. Everything she knew had crumbled too. She went to stay with my Aunt Andromeda, who until now had been removed from the family for marrying that muggle Tonks."

"Tonks' mother?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Yes, Granger. Pure blood family trees all intertwine somewhere. It's not a large community. Anyway, mother went to stay with her sister and I was left to find my way. Despite McGonagall stepping up for me in the trial, I had very little assistance otherwise. As I'm sure you can imagine, my family's wealth and assets had dried up. We had lost our good name. I struggled to find work. No one wanted to hire an ex Death Eater, let alone Lucius Malfoy's son.

"I decided to travel. I needed to get away from everyone who knew me. I wanted a break. I travelled to Durmstrang. I had made friends with several students there and some had continued on to their seventh year. I can't say I was welcomed as a friend. Word of everything that had happened had reached even there. From there I have been travelling. I have done my best to avoid those who knew me as I was. I take no pride in my former actions and understand the malice. My family own a small house here in Cahore, and having been fed up with London and not having much luck on my travels I decided where better to hide away than the middle of nowhere."

Sitting forward once more he ran both hands through his hair and over his face.

"So there you have it, Granger. My pitiful story. Not exactly anything to write home about but it is what it is. What about you? How did you end up on this godforsaken Isle?"

Hermione looked away. She was still processing all that Draco had told her. She felt awful that in three years she hadn't really even spared him a thought. It wasn't intentional, or even because she hated him. It was because she had been wrapped up in her own life and troubles. Despite everything she had been through at the hands of Draco Malfoy her heart went out to him. She understood the predicament he had been in. Voldemort had threatened his parents. Had threatened him. And his upbringing certainly hadn't allowed room for him to be much more than a muggle hating, pompous prick. It shocked her to see this young man in front of her and how different he was from the one she had known. If he was truly sincere, then he was making changes for the better.

She looked up to find him staring at her intently. She didn't know if she was ready to tell him her tale, but knew that it was only fair seeing as how he had shared his. Taking a deep breath, she decided to start at the beginning also.


End file.
